dancing on wires
by aero-breaking
Summary: The gods and goddesses in heaven hate Ochako in particular. This is how they try to make up for it. By giving her food—which yeah, thanks, no complaints there—and a man with blond hair that is very...nice...to look at.


**note one: lol. I got nothing to say for myself. Anyway, I posted this in AO3 but I thought I should post it here too. For old times sake.**

* * *

In general, good things don't happen to Ochako. They just don't, since a young age, she has taught herself to never get her hopes up too much. Since more often than not they end up in tatters on the floor, crushed and unrecognizable.

The last time she had gotten her hopes up so far, she had been left ready in her dress, with nowhere to go, buried in debt up to her ears. So she's a bit wary when suddenly whatever deity is looking out for her starts to give her a break.

She's landed a fairly good job, she's actually going out now, and not in a constant state of penny pinching and self-isolation.

And. And—

_Are we still on?_

The text comes right about the time she's beginning to pack her stuff and it makes her pause. She can't help let a small smile appear on her lips. Yeah, they were still on.

_Yeah_, she texts back, quickly, _I'll see you in 15_

_ok_

She can't really say why this started, after all, the set up was very unusual. Every Friday and Saturday for the past three months she had been going out to eat with a stranger, well, she supposed he wasn't so much a stranger anymore. And no—not like dating. But like...eating. Just. Eating.

His name was Bakugou Katsuki and they had met at a steakhouse on a Saturday evening. They had both been waiting to be seated but the hostess had thought they were a couple.

They had looked at each other and immediately denied it. He had been wearing a black hoodie in the middle of spring and looked fairly suspicious. But the woman had been pushy, _You're both alone right? Today we have a couple's special going on, it'll be cheap if you split the cost. What do you guys have to lose? Besides, if you wait to be seated separately you'll just have to wait longer._

She had made a valid point, and Ochako, ever the one for saving money—old habits die hard—had thought it was a good idea. Besides, she had thought, they could probably just keep to themselves as they ate. And the chances of him killing her in public were low. However, that was before she realized her seatmate was a cocky, foul-mouthed, downright rude bastard. He didn't even remove his hood while they were seated and he was wearing a black mask so the only thing she could see were his intense red eyes.

They had to choose one cut of meat, and Ochako had always believed meat was meat no matter what the cut. In all honesty, she was just glad to be eating it in the first place. But her companion had been adamant that the top sirloin was the superior cut but it was also the most expensive. The dinner had gone south real quick, but Ochako wasn't about to let this wannabe gansta—or whatever the heck he was going for—walk all over her.

She had insulted him back just as fiercely, using all the pent up rage that had accumulated in her after working in retail for four years. So what if she ended up dead later that night? She was going to go down kicking and screaming.

And oh, who knew she had it in her?

They'd been kicked out the restaurant and in all her life, she had never been so humiliated. But once outside she had cracked up so badly she started crying, the adrenaline and her nerves finally reaching their breaking point.

"Why the fuck are you laughing extra?" She remembers him asking as he pulled his mask down.

Through her sobs of mirth she had answered, "That was the most outrageous thing I've ever done."

He had given her a slightly mocking grin, lopsided and boyish and oh-so-not ugly. It had sobered her up instantly. She took a good look at him and realized he was not only very handsome but also tall, blonde, with a well-defined jaw. A flush rose up her back.

"Right, uhh, I should be going." She had stammered out, trying to leave his presence for fear of making a fool of herself even further.

He didn't even wave her goodbye and just gave a grunt of acknowledgment. She had thought that would have been the last of that until she met him again at a coffee shop. She had been so immersed in her reading she didn't see him until he had cleared his throat.

It'd been strange to pull away from the familiar pages of her favorite book to look up him.

"Can I sit here?"

"Depends," She had asked bravely, "are you going to get me kicked out of here too?"

He grimaced, looking pained, "No...actually I wanted to...say that I probably owe you dinner."

"Uhhhh," And yes, her traitorous heart had gone _there_, but before she could get any further ideas he spoke up.

"To amend. I mean. Not...in a weird way." He took a seat and set the cup of coffee in his hand on the table. Also as a note, though not really important, he had really nice hands.

"Oh, right. Right." She paused, slipping her bookmark into her book, "Umm, are you...trying to apologize without actually having to say the words?"

The blond man had the audacity to snort in amusement, "Maybe."

She pretended to mull it over for a few seconds, but clearly, her decision had already been made. "I accept. One must never turn down free food. But just to make sure...if you're a serial killer, just know that I want my body dumped in front of Isetan."

He had laughed, not like—full on laughing, but like—repressed, amused but trying to hide it. And _crapcrapcrap_ he had such a nice not-laugh. And voice. And hands. And looking closely, a nice body too. Some people just had it all.

She bet under his T-shirt all she would find is hard, defined muscles. It made her self-conscious.

Ochako was at peace with her body type. After many years she had accepted that her body liked to store fat on her stomach, hips, and thighs. It's not like she didn't take care of herself, but she did enjoy the simple pleasure of eating. After years and years of eating next to nothing on a daily basis.

She liked herself very much, but when stood next to a person with clearly better genes than her she couldn't help that tinge of shame and jealousy.

They had spent the next few minutes in relative silence and then suddenly her companion gave her a proposal. It had been so out of the blue, so unexpected, that she had agreed without giving it much thought. He had proposed they go out to eat each weekend, to try out new restaurants and cuisines, he'd lived in the city for over a year now but hadn't had time to explore.

_But now I have a lot of free time_, she remembers him saying and the way he had said it, so quiet and not at all arrogant, was probably why she had said yes. He had looked so incredibly lost that he must not have realized it was displaying on his face. No way anyone would willingly make that face in front of a stranger.

When she had asked why he was offering, he had just shrugged_, you can say no_.

Yeah, she could have, but she didn't. Ochako did not go out to eat, her budget had never allowed it, but now. Now she was free to splurge on herself for the first time in her life and what better way to do it than eating food. Something she thoroughly enjoyed.

She could have been signing her death warrant for all she knew, but they exchanged numbers and met up the following week for the steak he needed to repay her for. So far, she had not ended up dead at Isetan so she was starting to get comfortable.

As they got to know each other, he had mentioned it in passing once that he was an advisor for a fashion agency. She'd been a little surprised at his vocation and then, because curiosity got the best of her, she googled his name. And lo and behold, a bunch of pictures of him at _fashion week_ of all places popped up. She'd had a mini heart attack when she saw him donning clothes worth more than her entire month's pay.

Hermès, Armani, Dior, Burberry, Tom Ford, Givenchy, name any high fashion brand and he had modeled for it. It'd made her want to scream.

(Then she'd felt even more self-conscious about going out with him but that's a story for another day.)

Then, because deep down inside she knows she's a creep, she started to collect his shoots. She'd gone to the library to flip through old magazines to cut his photos out. He wasn't in any type of social media so she made do with this. She hopes he never finds out.

As she dug herself deeper into the can of worms, she even discovered that his father was the lead designer for KŌJIN, a Japanese brand that had been taking the fashion industry by the throat. Then, because she was so nosy she couldn't control herself, she googled his mom too. And wow. Just, wow. The woman had been in her fifties looking like she was thirty. Browsing through her shoots she could only describe her as full of fire. She was so beautiful and elegant and just...so...glimmering.

Reality had crashed down on her when she read the headlines announcing Bakugou Mitsuki's retirement. She had been diagnosed with cancer two years prior and since then the entire Bakugou family name had disappeared from the face of the internet.

She feels a cold feeling of guilt wash over her. She shouldn't be digging into his private life like this. She reasons with herself that no one would blame her for trying to find out about the stranger she's been meeting up with, but over the weeks she's come to really enjoy his company.

She doesn't want to betray him by going behind his back. She had erased her internet search, closed her laptop, and resolved to befriend this guy seriously. She couldn't bring herself to part with the cutouts though, so she stored them in a shoe box and hid it on the deepest corner of her closet.

She arrives at this week's designated restaurant close to twenty minutes late, she was almost afraid he had gotten impatient and left but she spots him looking through the menu as soon as she walks in. He's wearing the mask as he usually does but the hood of his sweater is down. She waves off the hostess trying to seat her and immediately goes to him.

"Sorry I'm late," She says, sliding into her seat.

"There was a lot of traffic," He excuses her.

"Yeah, the taxi driver thought it might be because of some road closures."

"I ordered your drink. Lemonade right?"

"And water, no ice?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks," She picks up her menu and takes a moment to look through it.

They'd chosen Italian tonight. Her choice. She's been craving some good pasta for the better part of the week. So when she had seen this place online she had sent the address to him without a second thought.

"What are you ordering?" She asks, looking at him over the paper.

His face is resting on the palm of his left hand, and he looks up at her, his red eyes bored. "Probably the spicy shrimp and chicken pasta."

_Ahh,_ Ochako thinks to herself, _so predictable_. If there was one thing she has learned about the blond man is that he likes _everything_ spicy. He even carried around packets of his favorite hot sauce in his car. It was the most amusing thing to Ochako.

The first time she had ridden in his car she had accidentally spilled some ice cream on her shirt, thankfully, he kept napkins in his glove compartment and when she opened it, the packages had spilled out. The tips of his ears had gone completely red.

He also carried around, in the pocket of his sweaters, a stress ball he would squeeze every time something irritated him. At first, she hadn't paid it any mind, but as the weeks wore on she realized that when he started squeezing the ball it meant he was getting overwhelmed by something. He would then excuse himself for a moment and go to the bathroom.

When he came back, his demeanor was much more relaxed and but he was also more reserved. Almost...guarded.

She didn't want to pry, but she thought maybe he could be a little bit more open with her. They weren't dating so she didn't really have a place to be asking. They were just eating buddies. They had tried almost everything, Korean, Japanese, American, Brazilian, Indian, Mexican, Mediterranean, coffee shops, sweet shops, ice cream, anything and everything that they thought about.

Ochako even kept a neat little Instagram feed of all the places they had visited. Both Izuku and Tenya had asked if she was dating again and Mina always referred to Ochako's outings as dates no matter how much she had denied it.

Bakugou is a funny character. He's rude and his default facial expression is a frown, though Ochako has come to learn that his sometimes insensitive comments are just a part of who he is. He likes to refer to people as extras any chance he gets and at first she had been slightly offended but after a while, the novelty had worn off. He seems to see the world in blacks and whites and to be honest, Ochako can appreciate his honesty even if it is harsh.

He owns a dog so he can't be all that bad. He must have a heart in there somewhere. Ochako has been to his house before, it's in a residential area and while it is large, it's fairly humble. She can be sure that if he wanted, he could probably afford something much more expensive.

He also—and this was the most endearing thing Ochako has come to learn about him—knitted ties for his dog. When she had visited the first time, she had seen the yarn and needles out on the table, tie almost complete. He had flushed red, and once again she was reminded of just how unfairly attractive he was.

His dog is a mix of an Australian Shepard and a stray, from what the vet had told him. Ochako had never considered herself a dog person, but Ground Zero—and what a name _that_ was—was making a case for himself just by existing.

Another thing she found out, by pure coincidence, she was _not_ snooping, is that Bakugou took a lot of medications. This she comes across when she's looking for a bandage in his cupboards. They're sitting there, quite innocently, in orange containers with English words. She shuts the cupboard without giving them a second glance, she's not going to stoop that low.

She's broken out of her musings when the waitress comes to leave their drinks and take their orders after a few minutes. Ochako is looking forward to her spaghetti and meatballs, uncreative, she knows, but the heart wants what it wants.

"How was your week?" She asks as she pulls the lemonade toward her.

Bakugou seems to not hear her. He pulls his mask down, and his face is uncharacteristically devoid of any emotion. He looks at the table with a distant look in his eye.

"Today is the twenty-first," He says, a strange expression crossing his face. "My mother has been dead for five months now."

The admission makes Ochako choke around the straw. In the time they have been meeting every time Ochako had asked about his week he would just shrug and say it had been fine. She had hoped, of course, that one day he would open up and tell her more than that. But this is...this is unexpected.

"I-I, ummm, wow, I am so sorry to hear that, uhh," She blabbers, trying to find something comforting to say but nothing comes to mind, "I-I don't know what to say."

He lets out a choked laugh, "You don't have to say anything, I'm just out of it."

This makes her pause and frown, she knows he's more than just out of it.

"You can talk to me about it," She blurts out, her neck heating up, "If-if you want, I mean. Talk. Uhh, I will listen."

He looks at her intently, and Ochako can practically _see_ the walls go up behind his irises. It seems as though he likes to hide his pain behind a facade of arrogance, "It's fine."

She wants to push because despite her efforts, she had begun to care deeply about his well being. They're friends and she's worried.

"If you ever want to talk, about anything really, you don't have to wait until the weekend. You can just text me—or call at any time."

He looks surprised, but then he rolls his eyes, the usual cockiness returning to color his words, "Whatever you say, Round Face."

She pouts, there's that nickname again. In the whole time they have known each other he's never called her anything other than Round Face. At first she had been offended, but then in one of the occasions he had excused himself his phone started to light up with notifications, she had seen they were all along the lines of: 'shitty hair,' 'raccoon eyes,' 'pikachu' and 'tape-arms.'

In the end, Ochako decided confronting him about it was probably not worth it. One day he would call her by name, mark her words.

Their food arrives and Ochako takes her obligatory picture before digging in. It's delicious and she grins contently, sighing, "This is so good."

She does not notice Bakugou's eyes on her.

* * *

It occurs to Ochako, that if she wants Bakugou to open up to her, she should open up to him. It's not as though they haven't spoken about themselves in the time they have been meeting up, she had even been to his _house_, against all her rules of self-preservation. Again, she hadn't died so she's getting more and more comfortable. _What are you doing? _A voice asks in her head, _You're treading in dangerous ground._ She ignores it.

It's just that, their talks haven't gone any deeper than their likes, dislikes, sometimes work, sometimes hobbies. And other than the stuff she found on the internet, or that time he told her about his mom, he hasn't willingly shared anything substantial.

They have both been hesitant to share the nitty-gritty details that make them the people they are today. She herself doesn't want to share why she's really picky with how she spends her money. In a way, this arrangement of meeting up to eat was a little therapeutic for her.

She was allowed to spend money on good food, she could afford it.

_Wanna go to the new patisserie they opened by where I work?_ She texts him.

_If we have to_, is his cheeky answer.

So they meet up on Saturday at two and the place is surprising mostly empty. They order creme brûlée's, macaroons, and lattes and take a seat by the window.

"So which of these buildings do you work for anyway?" He asks, looking out the window. Today, he has completely forgone his usual facial mask. Ochako resists the urge to cover his face with a plastic bag or something.

"Uh, that one." She answers, pointing to a five-story building with large windows.

"A publishing company?" He snorts, "Who would've thought you were into that..."

"_Excuse me _what does that even mean?"

"It was a fucking joke, Round Face, no need to get all damned prissy."

"Hmph." She turns her nose, "I'm not prissy. I work as a receptionist, I'll have you know. All the prissiness goes on on the third floor."

He snorts again, "Must get tiring. Dealing with all those pretentious asshole extras."

"I manage just fine, thank you very much. The majority of the writers just keep to themselves, they're like...reclusive rare birds. The editors are the real pain."

"I can only imagine." He rolls his eyes, "I deal with a fair share of pain in the asses myself."

Ochako laughs, already imagining it. The fashion industry is not for the faint of heart, she surmises.

"You know," She begins, gearing herself up to share a part of herself, "I come from a very poor family. I remember my parents skipping meals just so I could eat."

He freezes for a solid five seconds. Then he raises his eyes to her, looks at her attentively, and nods. It makes her flush, and she continues.

"I started working as soon as I could to help out my parents. A lot of my teen years I spent unloading grocery trucks and working at convenience stores until one o'clock in the morning." She lets out a laugh, "I once even worked at this repair shop fixing vacuums and roombas. When I got to high school I would hide in the library when lunch time came around because I didn't want anyone to feel sorry for me. I think that's where my love for books started."

She smiles at the memory, she takes a macaron, "Books were an escape. I could immerse myself in a book and forget about my hunger. It wasn't—it wasn't until one of my best friends found out about my situation that reality got a little easier to bear. He would always look for me during lunch and share his food. Maybe that's why I'd be willing to fight anyone that hurts him."

He smirks, "Now that would be a sight."

"I, uh, didn't go to college. Too much money I didn't have, and my parents didn't either. But," She feels strange sharing this with him, "when I got my current job, I was really happy since I got to work in something that I really did like."

He takes a sip of his latte and drums his fingers on the table, not in impatience just...nervousness. Probably. Hopefully. He doesn't seem the type to use words much.

"You're pretty resilient huh?" He remarks.

She laughs nervously, "That's one way to put it. I have _really_ bad luck. So I've just learned to adapt."

"Same thing."

The creme brûlée is delicious. Makes her want to eat it in one gulp so she can choke on it and never have to speak again. There are things she's willing to share with this man she hadn't even told Deku.

She sadly seems to not have a filter today, so she continues rambling, "I write short stories in my free time, uhhhh nothing great...just little tidbits of things that come to my head." She cringes. "Once, I left my notebook on my desk while I went to the restroom and when I got back, one of the editors was flipping through it. I was mortified when he returned it, red marks everywhere."

The blond man frowns, "That's an asshole move."

"Yeah—yeah. But—" She takes a sip of her latte and almost burns herself, giddy to share the good news with _someone_. "But he complimented me, said it was good stuff, just needed some cleaning up. About a month later he offered me a chance to ghostwrite in one of the online columns."

He gives her a lopsided smile, "Well congratulations to you, Round Face."

She grins, cheeks red, " Thank you!"

He's looking at her strangely, and Ochako's stomach flutters. There are moments when Bakugou's face goes slack without any emotions and it reminds her of the many pictures she has cut out of him. He looks…very handsome. But…there is something missing now. She can't be sure but it seems like there has been a fire put out in him.

* * *

They go to a ramen bar next, Bakugou's pick this time. It's simple, cheap, and delicious. For a while, they chat idly of the food but they mostly eat in silence.

"I used to be a really shitty child," He starts, unexpectedly, towards the end of their meal, "I was so fucking angry all the time. Like, _all _the time. But then, I started having episodes of blinding rage and it was so bad I would start breaking stuff, shouting, all around just throwing temper tantrums over the most insignificant things. A friend of the family thought I might have anger management issues."

She nods, letting him know that she's listening but doesn't want to spook him by asking questions or making an unnecessary comment. This is the first time she has heard Bakugou speak about himself.

"My parents tried to curve it by signing me up for music lessons, sports, dancing—fucking knitting—really anything that would get me out of the house and was an outlet for my energy. It worked for a while, I was so exhausted I didn't have much energy to even be angry. So I stopped doing some extracurriculars when I got to middle school. But that was a mistake."

He takes a deep, steadying breath and pauses for a moment. Silence stretches between them and for a moment Ochako thinks that that's all he's willing to share today. But he surprises her and continues.

"I started focusing on my studies a lot more and there was this nerdy kid in my class. He was so tiny compared to everyone else. He had this messy, unruly hair and a million freckles. He was like...the model nerd. We had...actually been neighbors for a long time and before I started having explosive episodes we were best friends. So he followed me around, always: 'Kacchan this, Kacchan that' and it shouldn't have, but it pissed me off so, so much. I can't even explain why."

Bakugou starts fiddling with the chopsticks, nervously twisting them in his fingers, "I started to bully him. Harsh, cruel, torturous bullying. I would talk down on him, humiliate him in front of everyone, hit him, and I even shoved his head in the toilet a couple of times." He lets out a humorless laugh, "I was a fucking imbecile, just so _fucking_ shitty."

Ochako continues to just listen.

"This went on for three years. He would cry all the time, but he would _still_ follow me around and that—that just made me angrier. So I continued to be meaner. But—I don't know—the teachers around us seemed to not care about it, so it went on and on for him. It all came to a conclusion when I told him to kill himself on our last year."

She's horrified and speechless, thinking the worst. He turns to look at her and he must see the horror in her eyes because he looks away from her, his gaze unsteady.

"Thankfully, he didn't do it. But his mom found out, and she rightfully threw a fit. It was a complete shit show and I deserved every moment of it. I got expelled from the school, I didn't graduate, my mom whooped my ass so hard I think I still have a scar, and my family's reputation was smeared through the dirt."

He rubs the back of his neck, ashamed. "We ended up moving to America. The only good thing I can say happened was that my parents realized I had a serious issue. I finally got diagnosed with a severe case of intermittent explosive disorder. Genetics and low serotonin levels were the main causes, so no amount of breathing could calm me down. I've been going to a psychiatrist ever since. I take pills too."

She bites her lip, remembering the pills in his cupboard, and tries to come up with something to say but everything seems to fall too short in her head. "So the stress ball?"

He snorts, though there is barely any humor behind it, "Yeah, when I reach for it more than three times I need to remove myself from the situation and try to calm down. I haven't had any major episodes in a while."

"Th-that's great."

Bakugou nods, looking weary, as if explaining all that had been as tiring as running a marathon, and maybe it was, "You know, I actually saw the kid at my moms funeral."

Ochako's eyebrows shoot up, "How'd that go?"

"I apologized, and he kinda just smiled nervously and said 'I've forgiven you Kacchan' like it was that easy and we exchanged numbers. I've been texting him, been to dinner with him too. It's really weird."

"Why's it weird?"

"Just...I would hate me. If I were him."

Then something crosses her mind, "Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Hate yourself?"

Again he does that thing, look at her while he raises his walls. There's a tense moment of silence and then he answers, his voice like gravel, "Sometimes."

* * *

After ramen, Ochako is in the mood for Korean barbecue.

After burning the first slice of meat, Ochako's grilling privileges are instantly revoked. Bakugou takes the reigns, a murmur of _holy shit you're useless_ under his breath. She kicks him under the table.

They have been texting more regularly now, ever since that day in the ramen stand. She feels like she's finally getting _somewhere_.

Though there is a nagging feeling in the back of her head telling her: _don't get too close. Good things don't happen to people like you. _

She ignores it in favor of basking under Bakugou's attention. They start arguing about just how well the meat needs to be cooked, then the topic shifts to her Instagram feed, then it shifts to work, and as the dinner wears on, they end up talking about...themselves.

He starts it off by saying, "I'm planning on going back to my previous job."

Ochako almost chokes on the cucumbers she's chewing. She tries to feign stupidity, "Oh, what did you do?"

"Something that required a lot of confidence."

She looks up at him, and tilts her head in question, "You're not lacking in arrogance."

Bakugou laughs, in that subtle self-deprecating manner of his, "You'd be surprised. These days I feel like shit under someone's shoes."

That must be something terribly hard for him to admit because he outwardly cringes. As if he couldn't quite believe the words had slipped through his mouth.

"I think," Ochako begins slowly, "Everything is a fake it till you make it process."

He nods in agreement, and then because he shared something, she feels the need to return the favor.

"I'm always faking." She says, looking down at the grilling meat because she doesn't want Bakugou to see the pain in her eyes, "About everything. Four years ago, I had an asshole boyfriend abandon me and leave me with a massive debt."

She laughs sardonically, "But I because I was too proud, I didn't tell anyone. Instead, I just worked harder, but I ended up isolating myself from everyone. I'm sure that if I had asked for help, my friends and family would have given it, but I was so ashamed. I didn't want anyone to know."

"Damn, Round Face, we're really in a race to see who has the shittier life, huh?"

She laughs, glad he didn't say something pitying. "Yeah, so far I'm winning."

"I bet I can top that."

"Give it your best shot."

And he does, because apparently the way to make this bastard talk is by making it a competition.

"About two years ago, my mom got diagnosed with cancer. For some reason, I was being stupid and stopped taking my antipsychotics, so I fucked up my entire career by destroying my fathers work." His voice cracks when he admits it, "The one I had helped him with—the one we had spent hours and hours of sleepless nights working on. And I just—fucked it all up. Like it was nothing. Just remembering the resignation in his eyes—as if it was only natural I break his heart—has burned away at me for the past years."

His fingers twitch, the meat is starting to burn, Ochako turns off the stove. She bites her lip.

"And _then_ to top it all fucking off," His voice is hoarse, as if he had been screaming uncontrollably, and maybe he had, screaming and screaming for help, "my mother dies in my arms, after I cooked her last meal, crying and begging for forgiveness for a sin she didn't commit."

Bakugou does not cry, does not do anything but give her a smile that frightens her. It's cruel and fake and all _wrong_.

Ochako slides out of her seat and sits next to him. She doesn't even think about consequences as she reaches for his hand. She grips it hard enough that her nails will leave bloody indents. "I'm right here."

He grips her hand tightly in return, it's going to bruise, but she doesn't care.

* * *

Ochako has to attend Hagakure's and Ojirou's wedding the following weekend, so they don't meet up. A good thing, they're not ready to face each other after bearing their souls like _that_. But they do exchange a few text messages here and there. Mostly pictures of food and Ochako has been reduced to begging for pictures of Ground Zero.

Humiliating, honestly.

She's met the dog a grand total of three times but she's smitten by him. He's sixty pounds of absolute sunshine and his eyes hold the universe.

_Here_. Bakugou's message reads, _Here's this demon child._

Attached is a photo of Zero looking up at the camera, his favorite stuffed toy in his mouth, head tilted to the side, and he has on an orange tie. Ochako's heart wants to melt. She wants to show him off, to be honest, she's never even owned a pet, but for some reason she wants the world to know that this puppy exists and he is loved.

If she's being honest, she didn't even want to come to begin with, but she hasn't seen everyone in such a long time, and it would be rude to not show up to a friends wedding. During the reception, when Izuku asks what she's been looking at so intently for the past five minutes Ochako doesn't even hesitate.

"Look," She says, all but shoving the phone into her friends face, "Isn't he the cutest thing?"

"O-oh," Izuku says, grabbing the phone to get a better look. His eyes widen in surprise.

"Cute right?"

"Ground Zero?" He questions.

And Ochako knows that name is _not _a common dog name.

"You know him?"

"Yeah—yeah!" The green haired main says excitedly, "He's Kacchan's dog! You know Kacchan?"

_He followed me around, always: Kacchan this or Kacchan that... _

Something lodges itself in Ochako's throat, "Y-you know Bakugou?"

Izuku nods, all bright-eyed and smiling, "Yeah, we went to middle school together. Small world, huh?"

Too small, if you asked Ochako. Wayyyy too small.

"How do you know him?"

"O-oh. Uh, we met at a restaurant and we started talking..."

Izuku continues nodding along going off on a tangent about his childhood bully and Ochako wants the world to swallow her whole. She instantly knows Izuku was the kid Bakugou told her about. She's been friends with Izuku since the first year of _high school_ and it had never once crossed her mind that he had been bullied. He had always been so nice, so easy to get along with, he had never spoken about it, never alluded to it, she was _such_ a terrible friend. Izuku might have been suffering and she had been none the wiser.

"—Yeah, I ran into him the other day and we've actually go to dinner quite often. He's a little awkward but you know he's not so bad once you get to know him. And—"

_Deku_. She wants to scream, _How can you be friends with _that _asshole?_

Whatever camaraderie she felt with Bakugou, is quickly diminishing. Izuku was the absolute _last_ person that deserved that type of trauma.

"My nickname—Deku—he gave it to me." He laughs, easy, and if Ochako didn't already know their history it would sound as if they had been the best of friends in middle school. And not—the ugly reality.

"And oh! Is he the one you've been going out to eat with?"

Ochako numbly nods. The tips of her fingers feel cold. Good things don't happen to her.

"You know, he hasn't mentioned you at all! In our dinners I mean, we've actually been going out to eat every Monday. He's been having a hard time since his mom died, I don't think he even eats at his house anymore. I was worried about him, since I can't meet with him as often. But I'm relieved to hear he's going out with you on the weekends."

And the thing about Deku is that once he gets to talking, _he gets to talking_. Even if you don't want to listen.

Any other time she would find it endearing, but right now, all she can feel is rage. _How could he? How could he have done that to Deku?_

Deku continues on, talking about Bakugou like he hung the stars in the sky. If Ochako didn't know better she'd think he was in love with the guy.

"He models, did you know? Yeah! He's tall and has nice facial features, his body is good too, so brands are always after him. His dad's a designer and his mom was also a model, can you believe it? That family is pure talent. Though he's been on a hiatus but he told me he was going to go back soon. And—"

"Deku," she whispers, overwhelmed, "Deku stop."

"Mmm?" He tilts his head in confusion, and then flushes red, "Oh, r-right sorry. I got carried away. I just...think he's amazing." He grabs one of his dark, unruly strands between his fingers and shyly murmurs, "I'm glad he met you. He's not alone then."

"Alone?"

Deku fidgets in his seat, "Yeah, he probably hasn't told you this, and maybe I shouldn't either but...Kacchan doesn't have many friends here. He moved to the city a year and a half ago because his mom was on her last stages of cancer and she wanted to come back here. But...after his mom died he...didn't have much of anything left here. His dad went to stay with his family for the remainder of the time until he goes back to work."

_Yeah, _she thinks to herself privately, _its because he's a horrible human being that even his own father doesn't want anything to do with him._

"I went to his house a week after the funeral and he...he was so bad. I don't think he had eaten anything other than crackers and water, his house was a mess and dark, and he had lost a lot of weight. " Izuku looks pained as he tells her this as if he was the one suffering.

"When I tried to help him, he waved me off, but I kept on texting him and calling, and I'd drop by unannounced, even if he didn't want to see me!" His eyes are earnest and sincere, "I had food delivered to his house, constantly. And then about a month later he told me to stop. That he was eating again. I wanted to believe him, but—but I was doubtful, Kacchan is a liar sometimes. So I went to check on him myself again."

Izuku smiles faintly, a faraway look in his eye, "He did look better and we talked and talked until I realized it was morning. After that...Monday dinners became a thing between us. I look forward to it every week."

A contemplative silence falls between them. The music of the wedding reception filling the void. There is something ugly building itself in the base of Ochako's stomach. Something like...contempt. Like resentment.

"Actually, now that I think about it, Ojirou might have invi—"

Mina comes bouncing up to them from the dance floor, "What are you guys even doing? Come on! Let's dance!"

Whatever Izuku was about to say is instantly forgotten, both trying to placate their overactive friend. Neither of them is that great of a dancer.

"Oh," Izuku murmurs suddenly and snaps his fingers, in that way of his when he's remembering an important detail, "Mina works with him."

"What?" Ochako says.

"What." Mina says, confused.

Deku flushes again, "Uhh... Mina, you work with Kacchan right?"

"Kacchan?" The pink haired woman asks.

"Uh, I mean. Bakugou. Bakugou Katsuki."

"Oh! Grumpy McGrumpy pants, yeah. He's been working at our agency for the past couple of months. Though mostly he just does advising and only comes like...twice a week." She raises a hand to her forehead for effect, "To trample my self-confidence to the ground and build it back up using toothpicks, but you know, he knows his stuff. His dad's amazing, if only it was the older Bakugou giving me pointers, I just might break into the international market." She sighs dramatically, a hand on her heart.

Izuku lets out a laugh, "If anyone is going to help you break into the international market, its Kacchan. He's modeling for you come spring right?"

"Yes! His long-awaited comeback. AND does the man have a _great _body! He's so easy to style. He would look good in a trash bag. Wo-hoo," She fans herself, "If I had the time to have an affair, Eijrou would forgive me, I'm sure."

Izuku chokes on air, "Ughhh."

"Don't worry, I'm not into the intense, broody types. They're nice to fantasize about in theory but in practice? They need to be kept away from me."

"Kacchan doesn't brood," The curly haired man says in defense of his friend.

"Yes he does," Ochako and Mina respond at the same time, with different levels of amusement.

Mina looks at Ochako with a raised eyebrow, "You know Bakugou?"

"Uh, yeah. Everyone seems to know Bakugou."

This world was too small, she needs to start looking for another one.

"Mmm," Mina hums, contemplatively, "Well, he is a little famous after all."

Izuku butts in, "But Ochako doesn't know him because of that, it's because they eat together."

"Eat?" The woman says as if the word was foreign, and then something clicks, "Wait."

Ochako can see the dots connecting in her head. The pink haired woman looks at her with a critical eye and then she starts snapping her fingers like she just discovered a new color or something. "FUCKING ROUND FACE!"

_Objectively,_ it's not even a big deal. Ok, so they meet practically every weekend to have dinner without any type of attachment, its weird but not...an astronomical disparity. But _personally_, Ochako feels exposed. Like she's been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, so to speak. She blushes down to her chest. _That damned nickname_.

"I can't believe it!" Mina exclaims, "I see it! Holy Moly I SEE IT!"

"Uhhh..."

"No girl, you don't understand! This asshole has been terrorizing my entire staff for the past three months and now, NOW I have _leverage_. Ejirou's been inviting him for drinks every Friday and he's always busy, saying he has dinner with Round Face!"

Izuku has the gall to laugh, "Wow, this is getting interesting."

"No. _No._ There's nothing interesting. We go out for dinner, we're barely even friends. I don't know what possible leverage you can have?"

Mina sighs, long-suffering, "My girl, my child, my love. It's not about the details, it's about the big picture! It's about the possibilities!"

Ochako wants to argue, but just when she's about to, the music cuts, and the lights are turned up, the emcee speaks loudly into the mic, "Will the single ladies come out tonight? It's time for the bouquet toss!"

The unmarried women start to congregate in the floor and Mina pulls her off the chair. "Go!"

"W-what? No!"

"Go! Ochako, GO!" Cheers Deku the filthy traitor.

"I'm not gonna!"

"Girl just Go!" Mina shouts, pushing her forward, "It's just for fun!"

She ends up going if only to satisfy her pushy friends, she stays towards the back, and Tsuyu comes to stand next to her and inquires, "You think you'll get lucky tonight?"

The taller of the two snorts, "Not in this universe. Not that I'm looking to get married anyway. What about you?"

The black haired woman looks towards were Izuku is sitting, "Anything can happen right?"

Ochako smiles, "If by some miracle I end up with it, I'll be sure to give it to you."

"There's no need. Generally, I would not resort to this humiliation. But that man is so dense I might have to shove the bouquet down his esophagus. And even then I think he'd just ask why I'm feeding him flowers. But I have to try somehow."

Ochako rolls her eyes, _men._

More specifically, _Izuku._

"Well," Tsuyu says, taking a deep breath as if she's going into battle, "I'll see you on the other side." And then she disappears into the thick of it.

She's not entirely sure what happens next, its all a blur. The bouquet is thrown so far back, it goes over Ochako's head, and she, purely acting on instinct, dives back for it and then a whole mass of women land on top of her. She gets the thing, she's not sure how, but she emerges victorious.

Her temple aches because someone had elbowed her in the head, one of the girls was crying because her nail had been ripped off, someone's dress had torn, some girls had lost their shoes, others their dignity. But none of that mattered.

She lifts the bouquet high above her head, "HELL YEAH!" She screams, "TSUYU YOU'RE GETTING MARRIED!" And then—and then the words that come out of her mouth are recorded forever and ever in Hagakure's wedding video, "TAKE THAT, EXTRAS!"

When she looks back on this moment, twenty years from now, she'll have deeply ingrained in her mind's eye the shell-shocked face of Izuku and—and Bakugou. Standing there, head tilted to the side, and that not-ugly, lopsided, boyish smile.

* * *

_that was an interesting victory speech_

_I'm actually kind of impressed_

_answer me_

_Bitch_

_Fucking answer your phone round face_

_Its your turn to choose_

_O_

_C_

_H_

_A_

_K_

_O_

_Heres the demon child again. He sends his love. He dug a hole in my backyard big enough to fit two of you._

* * *

The weekend after the wedding, Ochako cancels their dinner meetings citing work. It's not a complete lie, but her work is not complicated enough that she needs the entire weekend to complete it.

But there are some things she's going to have to think through.

Initially, her and Bakugou's meetings were about pure convenience. They went out, ate good food, and they found companionship from their otherwise lonely lives.

But now, things weren't so convenient anymore.

She wants to talk to Izuku, ask him why he's not holding a grudge. But she's afraid of the answer. She will not lie. In the months that they have been meeting, she has found herself attracted to the blond man. So when he started opening up to her, she felt a bit special, like they were finally starting to become real friends. Other than just acquaintances.

When he spoke about his childhood, she thought to herself, _Oh, he was a kid. He's grown up now._

But it's hard.

Now she knows just _who_ it was that he bullied. Does that make her a bad person? She wouldn't be avoiding him if the person that he bullied had remained some unknown kid. But it was Izuku.

Izuku, who on the first day of school had tripped at the entrance of the school because he had been so nervous. Izuku, who always smiled and gave her some of his food when she couldn't afford the cafeteria food. Izuku, who told his mom to pack him extra food so he could share with her and she wouldn't starve. Izuku, who would try to inconspicuously ask her out on Saturday's to hang out at his house to feed her.

Izuku who had been her first love.

It shouldn't matter.

Izuku doesn't even seem to be holding a grudge, he's even _friends _with Bakugou. Its been more than fourteen years since this happened. It shouldn't matter because the person that suffered is okay.

But it does. It does and she's not even sure why.

Maybe it's her own guilt. That she had taken so much from Izuku without giving anything in return. He had been suffering, healing from unseen scars and he had gone through it alone. (Or maybe, it's her making excuses to distance herself from Bakugou. These types of things don't happen to her. Good things.)

The following week, she cancels on Bakugou again. And the next. And the next too.

She doesn't really give him an explanation as to why. And he doesn't ask. He continues to send her pictures of Ground Zero though, and she's a little grateful.

At four weeks, Izuku calls her up, wanting to meet up to catch up since they haven't seen each other since the wedding. She agrees, not thinking much about it. He comes by her apartment around seven, take out boxes of her favorite Chinese place in hand.

They talk about work, catching up on a month's worth of things, and Ochako feels a sense of calm wash over her. It's nostalgic. Work keeps them busy so they don't meet often, so these little moments she treasures them in her heart.

She's picking up the trash from the table when Izuku asks her, trying to sound uncaring but failing miserably, "So have you and Kacchan met up lately?"

"Not really," She answers, trying to keep her voice level, "I've been a little busy."

Her friend hums in understanding.

"Why do you ask?"

"O-oh, umm, nothing. Just," He looks a little stressed, "Kacchan's been a little weird lately. So I was...just wondering."

"Weird how?" She questions.

"Oh, well, uh, he just seems out of it."

"I'm sure its nothing having to do with me, its probably work."

Izuku shifts in his chair, almost squirming. "Ochako, I don't think its work."

She finishes putting the trash in the bag. She'd like to get up and throw it in the trashcan but Izuku seems to want to argue.

"Well, it could be anything else."

"No." Izuku says, looking at her in the eye, "Its because you've been avoiding him."

Ochako frowns, "What are you talking about? I haven't been avoiding him."

"So why haven't you met up with him?"

"I had stuff to do. Besides how can I avoid him? We only meet to eat. It's not like we're friends."

"Ochako, I can tell when you're lying."

She throws her hands up in annoyance, "What do you want me to say, Izuku?"

"Just...if you're going to distance yourself from him, you should let him know. And not lie."

"I haven't _lied _about anything. I'm busy. I can't meet up. He's a grown man, he doesn't need me to reassure him of anything."

Izuku bites his lip and swallows thickly. "Kacchan—Kacchan will never ask of you more than you're willing to give. Even if it's killing him, he will never impose on you."

This irritates Ochako to no end. "Well good for him. I don't care."

Under her skin, Ochako feels hurt rise, because she really would like to not care. But she knows what it's like to be abandoned, to be forgotten. She knows what it's like to be waiting for a person that will never return.

Her friend looks at her as if he does not know her. "Why are you being like this?"

"Being like what? You're the one coming in here, asking me why I haven't spent time with a man I don't even know that well. I know you said he's having a hard time or whatever, but I'm not his babysitter. I'm not going to inconvenience myself just to make him feel better."

"That—that's not what I meant. I just want you to be honest with him."

"Why are you here on his behalf then? He has a phone, he can call me himself." She's getting anxious, her leg is beginning to bounce.

"I told you he won't ask more than you're willing to give."

"Why are you so worried about him?"

He looks shocked, like what she asked was completely ludicrous, "He's my _friend_. And you are too. I'm just—"

"—worried about your childhood bully." She doesn't really mean to blurt it out. But now that it's out there, she cant take the words back.

Izuku looks confused for a moment as if he didn't understand what she was referring to. And then, in typical Izuku fashion downplays it and says, "He told you about that? Is this what this is about? It happened so long ago it's not even important."

"Not important? NOT important?" She's on the verge of shouting. "He BULLIED you. He was mean and cruel and hurt you for so long. How can you forgive him?"

Izuku seems to be losing his patience too, "Ochako it was a _long_ ago. I got hurt, I went to counseling, I moved on. What do you want me to do? Wallow in pity? Fester remorse forever for a kid that was mentally ill?"

"His illness did not excuse him!"

"You don't understand!" He shouts, slamming his fist on the table, anger that she did not know he possessed seeping through his voice, "Our relationship started long before the bullying. Long before his illness. I knew who he was before the serotonin in his brain started to malfunction. He was my best friend as a kid. I knew of the goodness in him before his disorder started to manifest itself in such a destructive way. I remember how it would take its toll on him. I _followed_ him." His voice cracks pitifully, "He would always, _always_ push me away but _I_ wouldn't listen."

Izuku seems to be on the verge of tears. "You can't tell me who I can and can't forgive. I already lost him once when he left Japan, I got him back, I won't lose him again."

A heavy silence fills Ochako's apartment. _Why,_ she wants to ask, _Why are you so fixated on him? What's so special about _him_?_ But those are stupid questions, she knows what is special about Bakugou. Her heart knows, even is she's trying to reason her way out of it.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" She whispers instead, the question has been eating at her since the wedding, her voice unsteady. "I would have listened."

"I didn't tell you because you would only have my side of the story." He sniffs wetly, "You wouldn't have known him. Tell me, taking me outside of the equation, what do you think of him? Before you found out it was me that he bullied, what did you think of him?"

She thinks of Bakugou reaching for the stress ball, thinks of him excusing himself to the restroom, thinks of the way he smiles and how his nose crinkles when Ground Zero jumps on him. She thinks about him knitting ties and how he seems to be suffering but doesn't stop, doesn't falter.

She thinks of his red eyes and the walls he seems to put up around people. She thinks about how he will refer to people as extras but will help the old lady next door to his house unload her groceries. She thinks about his foul mouth but how he will not get impatient with the waitresses.

She thinks about the many photo shoots she's looked through and how no camera seems to be able to do him any justice.

"Good things don't happen to me." She reminds them both, her voice cracking, remembering the pain of her last breakup. Of how she had to pick up the pieces of her broken heart when the asshole left her with nothing but the clothes on her back and a massive debt.

Izuku looks at her kindly, "They can if you let them," and asks again, "What do you think of him?"

"I think," She says slowly, "I was falling in love with him."

Izuku's smile is watery, "Yeah."

Deku leaves after that. And she is left alone with her thoughts.

She's such a shitty person, thinking bad of others just so she can protect herself. Bakugou has done nothing but be kind to her, in his brusque way. He has not pitied her or looked down at her for her lack of education. He has been suffering and suffering and hasn't cried out for help, even though she has seen it.

She pulls out the cutouts from her closet and looks over them. Bakugou is always fighting a battle with his demons, he tries to keep them at bay in the best way he can, by masking his hurt with arrogance. By thinking that he doesn't need anyone's help. He bears is all on his own.

The question boils down to this: is Ochako willing to enter his world?

Willing to see his ugliness when the time comes, because she's sure, it _will _come. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not a month, or a year, or ten years from now. But it will come.

Can she _really_ love this man?

* * *

It's not the weekend, but she gives Bakugou a call. He picks up on the third ring.

"_Hello, Round Face_." He says, his voice low. And oh, how she's missed it. Even the stupid nickname.

"Hi. Uh, how have you been?"

"_Good. Just work_."

"I see..." She trails off.

"_And you?_"

"Same. Just work. Umm, listen..."

"_Yeah?_"

"Do you think we can meet up?"

"_Sure._" He says, without hesitation. "_On Friday? Were should we go?_"

"No. Not...Friday. Today. I mean. If you can."

"_Oh. Yeah, I think I can today._"

"Great! Where?"

He pauses, contemplating for a few seconds, "_Come to my house. I'll cook._"

"Oh! Sure! What time?"

"_Anytime after five._"

"Okay, I'll be there."

* * *

It's five thirty when Ochako finds herself standing outside of Bakugou's house. She's been gearing herself up to ring the doorbell for the past five minutes. She doesn't know what she's going to do, honestly, but she really does miss him. She sighs, inhales a large gulp of air, releases it, and rings it.

Bakugou answers the door almost immediately.

"Hey," He greets her, opening the door wide, "Come in."

She smiles at him and steps into the foyer.

"Here," He says, handing her some slippers, "You can use these."

"Right. Thank you."

She slips off her shoes and puts the slippers on. As she does this, Bakugou walks back into his kitchen.

"Dinner still isn't ready," He informs her. It smells heavenly and her mouth involuntary waters.

"That's okay." She looks around, "Where's Ground Zero?"

"Outside. He's not allowed in when I'm cooking."

"Oh, okay." She wants to go out an play with him, but she spots him through the window, sprawled out on the grass, paws up, sleeping and soaking in the warmth of the sun. She leaves him be. Not before taking a picture, of course.

Its not supposed to be, but the atmosphere is a little awkward. Ochako didn't think coming here was going to be hard. Bakugou and her had always been comfortable around each other, after all, they met because they started arguing.

"What are you making?" She asks, trying to disperse the awkward air.

"Soup."

"Did you need any help?"

"Na, don't worry about it. I'm just waiting for it to finish."

"Mmmm." She hums.

She comes to sit right at the bar counter, from her viewpoint she can see all the vegetables cut up, and Bakugou is finishing up cutting some potatoes. His hands move expertly, his cuts precise and no movement is wasted.

"You cook often?" She asks.

"I used to," He turns his red eyes to her, his hands not stopping, "I...I haven't cooked in a long time."

Ochako nods, "Yeah, you go out to eat pretty often. But why? I bet it's healthier and cheaper to do it on your own."

He looks away, "This is the first time I've cooked since my mother died."

"Oh..."

He nods and tries to change the subject, "So how have you been? For a moment there I thought maybe our arrangement was done."

"I—I googled you." She blurts and instantly grimaces. That was _not _what she was going to say. "I didn't mean to. But I—you're just so—" She motions to all of him, "And I couldn't help it. Sorry."

"I'd be more weirded out if you hadn't. If we're being honest." His tries to give her a cocky smile but it comes out more like a grimace. And it _does_ things to her. Suddenly his house isn't spacious enough. She feels trapped under the heaviness of his presence.

"Your mom—she was beautiful."

He nods, "A bitch too, but you know. She had a good face and an ugly attitude. That's where I get it from."

"Please don't do that."

He lifts an eyebrow, "Do what?"

Ochako bites her lip, "Never mind."

"I'm not wrong you know. I got my nasty temper from her. And she got it from her father, and he got it from the devil himself, I guess."

Ochako lets out a laugh, "You're not that bad. I bet she wasn't that bad either."

He starts to put the vegetables into the pot and covers it with the lid. He looks a little contemplative.

"She got blamed for it."

"I'm sorry?"

"When I first got diagnosed, the doctor thought it might be because my mom would abuse me. She yelled a lot and she would smack me around a little when I got too uncontrollable."

"Oh...that's—"

"But that wasn't true. I think if my mom didn't scream back when I started to lose control, I would have been worse. There would have been no buffer, no limit. She had the same disorder as me and it went undiagnosed for years." He sets the potatoes aside and leans on the counter, "We got diagnosed together, actually, when the psychiatrist figured it might be genetic. Though hers was less explosive, she knew what it was like to tear everything you loved to the ground and stand in the rubble at the end of the day."

"During her last years, all she would say was 'Katsuki I'm sorry.'" His face contorts into pain, and Ochako wants to reach out and hug him.

"Sorry, sorry. Sorry. As if it was her fault we were cursed with shit genes."

Ochako regrets the times she been envious of his genes. He was handsome—beautiful even—but his mind, it was in a state of constant battles. All because of the genes that she had so revered. _Are you willing to enter his world? _She asks herself again. The answer, after many days of thinking, is yes. Yes, because Bakugou has demonstrated to be more than anything she could ever dream of.

"Fuck. _Fuck_. Sorry, shit." He wipes away the tears that threaten to spill from his eyes. "Damn, you've now seen me cry, you're a level ten friend."

"No. Please don't worry." She tries to comfort. "I'm glad you think of me as a level ten friend."

He snorts very unattractively.

"Deku will have a field day when I tell him about this."

Ochako smiles, "Don't worry, I'll be sure to keep him under control."

Bakugous grimaces, "Guess you know who the kid I used to bully is."

"Yep. I do."

"He's your best friend, don't you hate me?"

She sighs, "I did for, like, four days."

"Don't lie."

"Okay, fine. I hated you for a month. But then Izuku was like...don't meddle in my business with my boyfriend and I was like okay, jeez. That's the last time I bother."

"_Please_ don't call him my boyfriend..."

"But you gotta admit it! He has like this weird crush you! Come on! You'd have to have noticed."

"Don't fucking say that! Isn't he getting married? How can he be in love with me?"

"I don't know! I'm still trying to figure it out! Maybe he's into polyamory, though I don't think Tsuyu would support it. You don't seem like her type and I don't think she's willing to share."

They look at each other, smiles on both their faces and burst out laughing. And in between the laughing, tears slip pass her eyes, she doesn't want to let him go. Not now, not ever. And months of hurt must finally break free in him as well because suddenly Bakugou is crying. He doesn't sob, doesn't crumble into himself or anything like that. He looks like that time at the café, lost and broken and this time, Ochako doesn't resist the urge to hug him anymore.

She hops off the stool, moves around the counter, turns off the stove, and hugs him. Hugs him so tightly she might never let go.

"I miss her so much." He finally admits as he hugs her back. "I miss both of them."

"I know. I'm right here."

He burrows his nose into her hair, inhaling deeply, and lets out a shaky breath. She doesn't keep track of how long they stand in his kitchen, just holding on to each other.

"You're too good," He says, pulling away. He pushes her hair away from her face, "I don't deserve you at all.

She smiles, "Good things like you don't happen to me often. I'm right where I want to be."

He looks away, "I wouldn't consider myself a good thing."

"But you are." She says, resolutely, "You just don't see it. But that's okay because I do."

He gazes into her eyes intently, "I can fuck this up really badly."

"Its okay." She murmurs as Bakugou cups her cheek, "I'm willing to try."

"But what if—"

"Ohhh, shut up please." She's thought about this long and hard. Her decision is already made. She pulls him down by the collar of his shirt, her lips brushing against his.

He looks down at her with wonder in his eyes, a flicker of fire lighting up behind his eyes. "Are you sure?"

She knows that he's asking because he's afraid. She's afraid too, but she can't let this opportunity of happiness pass. It might never come again. "I'm sure."

He kisses her this time, cupping her cheeks in his nice hands, pulling her so close, she doesn't know where he starts and where she ends.

If Ochako could, she's pretty sure she would be floating.

* * *

Mina is a very colorful person, so it is only natural that her spring collection is colorful. When she picks up Harper's Bazaar Japan she isn't surprised to see Bakugou sitting on a chair in a flowery suit on the cover. Instead, something like a hot stone lodges itself in her stomach.

She resists the urge to start hardcore fangirling over her boyfriend in the middle of the street, its a feat she manages out of sheer force of will.

She gets to work early with the sole intention of flipping through the pages in peace. She's not accounting for her coworker, Jirou, to pop out of nowhere when she's carefully cutting out the ones with Bakugou on them.

"What are you doing?" Comes her cool voice.

Ochako nearly screams.

Jirou looks at the photos and raises an eyebrow, "I didn't know you were a fan of his."

"Uhhh...recent obsession," she explains, embarrassed. "Do you know him?"

"I've seen his pictures around a lot lately."

"Oh...I see."

Jirou takes her seat and Ochako begins to hastily put her stuff away.

"You don't have to be embarrassed," Jirou says, not looking away from her computer screen.

"I—well, you see. Its a little—I mean. Its just a little weird?"

Jirou snorts, very unladylike, "Nothing weird."

_No, _Ochako, thinks, _it's actually very weird._

"I'll be right back."

She excuses herself and goes to the bathroom. She's blushing down to her toes. There's no _way_ she's admitting to cutting pictures out of her boyfriend when she gets personal photos anytime she asks for one.

Bakugou would not let her live it down.

But the deity that looks out for her must finally decide her good luck is over with.

She hears him before she sees him.

"Oh well, I'll just leave it in her bag."

Jirou stammers something out, though Ochako can't make it out.

"WAIT!" She screams.

But its too late. Too late and she wants to _die_.

He pulls out the magazine, the cutouts falling out, and Bakugou stands there, confusion marring his face. And then—and then, the smug bastard realizes just what it is he's looking at and meets her gaze. His red eyes are aflame in arrogance.

He sets her bag on her desk. And says, all innocence, "You forgot your lunch."

Jirou is looking between them as if she's entered a new dimension. Yes, the dimension of Ochako's nightmares.

"Thanks." She says through gritted teeth.

He gives her that stupid not-ugly, lopsided, boyish smile, "I'll see you later."

He leaves and Ochako is left with her dignity in tatters.

"Holy shit." Jirou says, "Holy _shit_. Bakugou Katsuki was just here. He brought you _lunch_."

Ochako takes her seat and places her face in her hands. She's actually quite surprised she hasn't self-combusted. Jirou is asking her something as Ochako's phone vibrates in her pocket and she already knows who it is. She pulls it out and its a text.

_If you're interested_, it reads _Mina gave me the suit. I can model for you in private. For free._

He can fucking die for all Ochako cares.

* * *

**THREE YEARS LATER**

Katsuki is late. Later than late.

It wouldn't bother her so much if she didn't know that he was as punctual as the clock itself.

She's been trying to call him for the past ten minutes and he doesn't pick up. She fiddles nervously with her engagement ring, twisting it and turning it to distract herself. He'd given it to her a week ago and Ochako has never cried so much from happiness.

She's looking through the menu when he hastily slides into the booth.

"Traffic." He says in way of explanation. He's wearing a suit, all form fitting and his hair tousled in that way Vogue once described it as 'panty soaking sexy.' Ochako still hates the fact that it makes him look like he has sex hair. But whatever, she comforts herself with the fact that his actual sex hair is a lot more flatter. Hairspray paints an unrealistic picture.

"Hmm." She doesn't look up from the paper.

"You angry, Round Face?" He asks, struggling to slip out of his suit jacket, "Fuck this shit is tight."

"You're lying to me. There was no traffic."

He has the gall to smirk, he sets his jacket to the side. "Caught red-handed, huh."

She sets the menu down and levels him with a heavy stare, "So where were you?"

"Dad wanted one last run."

Ochako understands that part, but she knows he's still omitting something. She's glad Katsuki and Masaru have reconciled, it had taken a lot of encouragement on her part, but in the end, the one who had been brave enough to pick the phone and make the call had been Katsuki. Since that time, father and son had begun to work together again.

Nervous excitement always rises up her back when she thinks about it. Soon the world would see the Mitsuki collection and she's forever grateful that they had let her be a part of it, even if it was just running around finding needles. It was all fiery reds and glimmer because that's just how the woman herself had been. Sometimes, Ochako wishes so desperately to have had the honor to meet her.

She pouts, looking at him over the menu. Katsuki only raises an eyebrow in amusement.

"This was supposed to be a surprise for another day, but Deku said its now or never." He then looks a little abashed and that's something really rare for this cocky motherfucker. "Anyway, I was picking this up."

He slides over to her a book. Or at least, she assumes its a book, its wrapped but the size is just about right.

She unwraps it. And whatever breath was in her body leaves her.

_Dancing on Wires: Short Stories by Uraraka Ochako_

"I—how did you—"

"You scrapped it. I know. But I pulled it out the trash. Sent it to a couple of publishers, it got picked up. Deku and Kirishima helped with the details. And now...here we are."

A deafening silence overtakes their table.

And then—goddessdamnit. Tears.

"You're a menace," She sobs. "A fucking lunatic."

Katsuki's lips quirk up. "You sell yourself short Ochako."

She sniffs, "You're awful."

He rolls his eyes, "Stop being so dramatic. Besides, in a few months time, you're not even gonna be Uraraka Ochako anymore. Might as well leave a relic or something."

She laughs, wiping away her tears. She examines the book intently, the cover is of a red chrysanthemum. She opens it up, and she wants to cry again.

Initially, she had already set everything up, even her dedication, before she had thought it not good enough and threw it in the trash.

"Bet your ego is the size of the moon right about now," Ochako says, her fingers going over the black letters.

When he doesn't answer, she looks up to find him flushed red.

He clears his throat. "Not really. When I first read it, I was actually pretty overwhelmed. Humbled and all that jazz."

She laughs, she sets the book on the table and rests her forehead on it. "I really love you."

"Fucking great." He says, moving to sit next to her. "Otherwise I'd be really worried."

His hand finds her left hand, he fiddles with her ring, he moves close, invading all her senses, "I love you too."

* * *

_Dedicated to the man that lit a fire so intense in me, it made me forget how to be afraid. To the one who battles demons I can't see and still manages to love me so fiercely. To my beautiful, beautiful Katsuki._


End file.
